I still can’t believe some of the writing I got away with in this thing.
I assume there will come a day where I can have a passing thought like “you know what would be handy is one of those Elgato teleprompter joints” and it will not be immediately met by thoughts like “YOU MUST BUILD IT. YOU MUST BUILD PROTO MAN, MANKIND’S ONLY HOPE.”
If I’m taking up archery I’m gonna need an arm guard, and if I need an arm guard I’m not gonna buy some cheap off-the-rack number, and if I’m gonna take the time to craft literal armor, well.
Well, if I’m gonna publish something on NPM I need a Yubikey, and if I need a Yubikey I don’t want it hanging out the side of the machine, so there’s really only one sensible use of this, my precious limited time on this Earth.
Alright dorks, part two of the Standard.Site Saga coming Monday. I now have the whole deal automated on my little Eleventy site, and you can too.
“So then what happens, right, is that Jaylen Hotdogfingers is incinerated by a Rogue Umpire—” The nurse, nodding patiently, hands me a tiny paper cup containing the medications for my Wack Internet Brain Syndrome. The year is 2040.
I was not expecting to start the day with my first emergency honeybee swarm rescue, but here we are.
Remember that scene in Die Hard where John McClane unspools the fire hose on the roof and ties it around his waist while muttering “oh, John, what the fuck are you _doing_” followed by a string of nearly-unintelligible curses, moments before making what is — by any measure — a very unsafe decision?
I’ve only just now noticed that my “dark mode” theme has been redacting all the codeblocks in my newsletter archives, which might be an improvement, honestly:
[touches earpeice] We take you now live to the boardroom at Webflow HQ:
Thirty-odd years of both woodworking and Mega Man 2 means I greet the voice that says “DO NOT THROW IT” as I would a dear old friend.
You know, for the kitchen remodel. It is normal to do this. I am normal for doing this, and cool.